Blood Requiem

by Christopher Husberg

  He guided the horses even closer to the wall on his left. He stood up, preparing himself, then leapt from the carriage bench, running along the wall as the carriage moved past him. He pushed off the wall just in time to slam into the two Sons at the front of the carriage. One fell to the road in another cloud of dust, while the other barely held on.

  Knot stamped his foot down hard on the man’s hand. He screamed, then let go as Knot punched him in the face.

  The two remaining Sons on the carriage turned to face him, eyes wide, but Knot didn’t wait for their surprise to process. Knot moved on one of the Sons, whipping the dagger from the man’s own belt and stabbing it into his neck. While he fell, Knot turned on the other Son, dodging a blow from the man’s fist, and then ramming the dagger into his belly. The blade pierced chainmail, and another kick sent the man flying from the carriage.

  Knot looked behind him. There were no more horses, no more Sons, other than the few writhing in the dust in the distance.

  The carriage slowed almost to a stop, but Knot wasn’t ready for that. He leapt forward onto the bench once more and urged the horses forward.

  He looked back into the carriage, saw Astrid was now face down on the floor. The jolting around must have knocked her down.

  “Hey,” he said. “Astrid.”

  No response. He still saw no nightsbane in the carriage; Astrid’s state had to be a result of the Black Matron’s acumency. Knot cursed. If he could get her far enough away, the matron’s hold would diminish. It was the only way he knew to break the hold she had on Astrid.

  He spurred the horses onward, racking his brain for a solution. There was no way they’d be able to get out of the northern gate; it was under the constant guard of the Sons of Canta. He might be able to get out on the southern side, but that meant he’d be cut off from the Odenite camp, and that still didn’t solve the problem of getting Astrid out of this bloody carriage. The thing was too bulky; it only slowed them down. He—

  His horses spooked as a half-dozen more riders charged at them from a street that ran perpendicular to theirs. The carriage shot past the opening just in time.

  “Shit.”

  He looked behind him, and sure enough another dozen riders at least were coming up behind him, Goddessguards among them.

  “Why can it never be easy?” he muttered to himself as he tried to regain control of the horses. But between the exhausting ride and their recent spook, it all seemed to be too much for them. They barreled forward at full speed, heedless of Knot’s attempts to steer.

  The horses widened the gap between them and the approaching Sons, at least, but it would not end well. Another sharp turn rapidly approached ahead; apparently Knot had ridden the entire length of the wall, and the wall turned sharply to the west about two hundred rods in front of him. The road took a slight downhill turn here, too, which did not help their unsafe speed.

  Knot would not regain control of the horses. Not in time. Even if he could, there was no way he’d be able to outrun his pursuers.

  He looked back into the carriage, then forward at the wall ahead of them. One hundred rods.

  He reached for the knife he’d taken from the Son on the carriage, and leapt forward onto one of the panicked horses. He cut the reins for both horses, then the tug line that attached the other horse to the carriage. The horse bolted, leaving Knot and the carriage behind. Finally, he cut the tug line attached to his own horse, which did the same. Fifty rods. The horse sped off, although the carriage was rolling so fast, now, that the horse could barely outrun it. Knot leaned forward, stroking the beast’s neck, and then guided the horse sharply right. It leapt into an alley, as the carriage rumbled past. Moments later, he heard a monstrous crash.

  Knot patted the horse’s neck, whispering soothing sounds. Fortunately, the horse already seemed to be calming. He rode out of the alley and towards the crash site. As he had hoped, the carriage was in ruins. The pursuing Sons were close, now, one hundred rods out themselves, but they, too, were now slowing. They had cornered their prey.

  Astrid lay on the ground, her body trapped beneath the roof of the carriage, which had completely detached from the rest of the body. Knot dismounted, keeping hold of the horse’s severed reins. With one movement born of desperation and adrenaline, he threw the carriage roof off of Astrid. He lifted the girl, placing her on the horse. He secured her there as best he could, tying her on with what was left of the horse’s reins, and then slapped the animal on the rump, sending it running off into the city. Hopefully, the horse would take her far enough away that she’d regain consciousness and escape before the Sons found her.

  Knot turned to face the oncoming horsemen. For now, he had to make sure he gave her that time.

  To his surprise, all of his pursuers stopped, surrounding him. None of them broke off to go after the horse that carried Astrid.

  Had they not seen him place the girl on the horse and send her away?

  “Any of you going to say anything?” Knot asked, as the Sons and Goddessguards circled him. Fifteen Sons. Four Goddessguards. All on horseback. The odds were not in his favor.

  “I suppose I will take that honor.”

  The men on horseback parted, making way for a woman. A woman clad in the white and red robes of a Cantic matron.

  “Canta’s bloody bones,” Knot muttered. “Didn’t I push you off of that carriage?”

  It was the same woman, there was no denying that. The wrinkled skin, white hair, now fully revealed with her hood down. The same blazing, intelligent eyes.

  “You did,” the woman said, frowning. “I’ve seen almost eighty summers, you know. That’s bad form no matter who you ask.”

  “You telling me you didn’t deserve it?”

  The woman burst out laughing, bending over, clutching her stomach. She went on for a good minute. Knot kept a straight face. He hadn’t been joking.

  “You might’ve lost the girl,” Knot said. “I’d like to say I’m sorry about that, but…”

  The Black Matron waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I’m not worried. That girl always turns up, even when she doesn’t want to be found, somehow. Besides, she was never our final target.”

  Knot blinked.

  The woman chuckled again. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse me. It’s just that we’ve pursued you for so long. You cannot know how good it feels to finally have caught you, and yet here you are making jokes.”

  Astrid had told him they were using her to get to him. That was exactly what they’d done here.

  “How long have you been after me? Were you after Lathe, too?”

  The matron shook her head. “We never had much interest in Lathe, my dear. But when you became… well, you, my superiors took a sudden interest.”

  “And your superiors are?” Knot was surprised at how calm he felt. He had no way out, not now. That was all right. Astrid had made it out, and somehow, despite her betrayal, despite her lying to him, knowing that she was safe was enough.

  “Oh, you’ll find that out soon enough. Very soon, in fact.”

  “Forgive me if I’m not impressed.”

  The woman’s smile faded. She sighed. “Our conversation ends here.” She signaled to the men around her. “Take him.”

  26

  Odenite camp, outside Kirlan

  ASTRID LET CINZIA LEAD her to the tent she shared with Jane, where the disciples regularly met. Cinzia had to slow her pace so Astrid could keep up as she limped along. She had returned to camp, barely conscious, on a horse that morning, but her leg would still take another day or so to fully heal. Broken bones always took longer to heal than cuts and piercings.

  Astrid clenched her jaw. She was rarely present for the disciples’ meetings, unless Knot was, too, and that was usually fine with Astrid. She didn’t care much to participate in whatever in Oblivion they were talking about, anyway.

  But now Knot was gone, and they needed to get him back.

  Jane, Ocrestia, Elessa, and Baetrissa waited for them. Astrid thought
it was a bit silly that each of Jane’s disciples had been named after one of Canta’s original Disciples. Seemed more than a bit contrived.

  “Welcome, Astrid,” Jane said. “Cinzia, I am glad you found her.”

  Everyone was still exhausted from the battle with the Outsiders the previous night. Jane and her priestesses wore rumpled clothing, their hair disheveled.

  “Do you have an update on the dead and wounded?” Jane asked.

  “Ain’t good,” Ocrestia said quietly. “Death toll’s up to thirty-one. The wounded almost double that. We healed as much as we could last night, but… but we are not experienced with Canta’s power. We could only do so much.”

  “I am sure you did what you could,” Jane said, placing a hand on Ocrestia’s shoulder. The gesture seemed oddly fake to Astrid. But she was in a pretty terrible mood.

  “What about Eward’s Prelates?” Jane asked. “How many of them were lost?”

  “Five,” Ocrestia said. “And more wounded. Still have a strong force, though, over one hundred volunteers.”

  “By Canta’s grace,” one of the other disciples whispered. Astrid wasn’t sure which one, and she didn’t much care.

  “We need to make sure this does not happen again,” Cinzia said. “We cannot take another attack.”

  “We must address the toll this has taken on the Odenites,” Jane said. “I will give a speech. The more opposition we face, the clearer the importance of our movement becomes. What we do here matters. I will emphasize that.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. Normally, she liked Jane, but this all seemed too much. Especially when there were other matters that needed to be dealt with.

  “What about Knot?” Astrid asked.

  “What about him?” Jane asked.

  Astrid looked at Cinzia. “She doesn’t know?”

  “I have not had time to tell her,” Cinzia said. “You barely came to me yourself.”

  Astrid sighed. Made sense, actually, but she didn’t have the patience for apologies. “Knot has been captured. We need to get him back, as soon as possible, before… before they do something bad to him.”

  Jane shook her head, bewildered. “Captured? Astrid, what are you talking about? Who would capture Knot? I thought the Nazaniin had been dealt with.”

  Astrid snorted. If Jane thought the Nazaniin had been dealt with, she was more naive than Astrid had thought. “Not the Nazaniin. The Denomination.”

  “What?” Cinzia looked at Astrid sharply.

  Astrid cleared her throat. No sense in hiding anything now. She’d come clean with Knot, and that was what mattered. These women did not.

  “Long before I met any of you, a faction of the Denomination coerced me into working for them. I tried to break free of them, because they were using me to get to Knot, and I did not like that.”

  “A faction within the Denomination would never employ a vampire,” Cinzia said quietly. “Unless…”

  “It’s the Cult,” Astrid said. “Led by a woman who calls herself the Black Matron.”

  “Canta rising,” Cinzia whispered.

  “Cinzia? What is the Cult?”

  Cinzia stared off, wide-eyed, into nothing. “A dark tale girls at the seminary tell one another. But even as a priestess, I heard… rumors…”

  “Rumors of what?”

  “Of women in the Denomination who serve a darker purpose,” Cinzia said.

  “A darker purpose?” Ocrestia asked.

  “I did not know it at the time,” Cinzia said, “but I can only assume they serve the Fear Lord, Azael, master of the Nine Daemons.”

  “But how can they profess to serve Canta, and yet ally themselves with the Fear Lord?” Elessa asked. “It cannot be possible.”

  Astrid barked a laugh. “If you’re still putting limits on what is and isn’t possible, you’re a bloody slow learner.”

  Ocrestia chuckled.

  “They must have used me to get to Knot,” Astrid said. “I was ambushed after the Outsider attack last night, and the next thing I knew, I woke up barely conscious on a horse in the city.” While she’d destroyed the Black Matron’s nightsbane, she hadn’t been immune to her acumency, and in the chaos the Black Matron had surprised Astrid easily, incapacitating her.

  Astrid looked at Ocrestia. “Your husband, Cavil, said Knot went after me last night. The only explanation is that they used me as bait. Apparently, it worked.

  “If you ask me, the Black Matron orchestrated the Outsider attack. They want Knot, and they’d do just about anything to get him.” She glanced at Cinzia. “Them serving the Fear Lord doesn’t sound that far off, either.”

  “They would do that?” Jane asked. “Cause all of that destruction, just to get to one man?”

  “I think they would,” Astrid said.

  Jane took a deep breath, while the other disciples were silent. Finally, Jane spoke.

  “We need to figure out a way past Kirlan,” she said, “and continue our trek south. That is Canta’s will.”

  Astrid blinked.

  “Jane,” Cinzia said quickly, “we cannot just leave Knot to his fate.”

  “We can if it is Canta’s will,” Jane said. She looked at her sister. “Remember Navone? Canta’s will was for me to turn myself in, Cinzia. We both thought I would die. But I did not, and here we are. Canta has a plan for Knot, and if it requires him to live, he will.”

  “If?” Astrid growled.

  “Jane, dozens of people died in Navone,” Cinzia said slowly. “That action was not without consequences. Collateral damage. If we can do something to help…”

  “Knot has protected you,” Astrid said, unable to keep the edge from her voice, “helped you, all of this time. You would just abandon him?”

  “We are not abandoning him if we leave him in Canta’s care,” Jane said. “There is no better help.”

  “If you lose him, you lose me,” Astrid said. “And the next time an Outsider attacks, nobody will be around to save you.” She turned and left the tent without another word.

  * * *

  Astrid limped away, every step a reminder of her own inadequacy. The fact that she couldn’t run, could hardly walk away from those heartless women fast enough, made her want to scream. Made her want to murder someone.

  “Astrid!” Cinzia caught up with her easily.

  “Get away from me,” Astrid muttered.

  “I want to help you,” Cinzia said. “And Knot.”

  “Your bloody sister doesn’t feel that way.”

  “My sister… my sister can be a bitch.”

  Astrid stopped, turning to face Cinzia. She raised one eyebrow.

  “What?” Cinzia asked. “She can be. Sometimes.”

  Astrid snorted, shaking her head. She couldn’t stop the slightest smile from creasing her cheek, despite everything that was going on. Had to take the pleasures of life as they came to her, after all.

  “Knot is my Goddessguard,” Cinzia said. “I am going to help him. I do not care what my sister says.”

  Astrid wrinkled her forehead. “What do you mean he’s your Goddessguard? I thought you weren’t a priestess anymore.”

  “I am not,” Cinzia said slowly. “He… he did not tell you?”

  “Haven’t been talking much, he and I. Not since I told him about my association with the Denomination.”

  Astrid sat down on one of the many makeshift chairs that scattered the camp, near the coals of a dying fire.

  Cinzia hesitated, then sat next to her. “I am sure you hurt him,” she said quietly. “It could not have been easy for him to hear you had been working to betray him.”

  “I know that. But I’ve been trying to avoid the bloody Denomination since Izet. Since—”

  “What changed?” Cinzia asked.

  Astrid shrugged. What had changed? What made her want to help Knot more than she wanted redemption for herself?

  She knew the truth. She’d known it all along, since her first moments with him. “I like being around him. I feel safe. Like I’m a
part of something.”

  “Like you are part of a family?”

  Astrid snorted. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about a family. Been without one for so long, I might as well never have had one at all. I certainly don’t remember anything about mine.”

  “Family is not about what we remember, or where we are,” Cinzia said. “It is only about how we feel.”

  Astrid kicked her legs against the stump on which she sat. “He didn’t even get mad at me when I told him. I wish he had, but he just… he said he could not imagine how difficult it would have been for me, that idiot bastard…”

  Astrid turned away from Cinzia, and raised a sleeve to her cheek.

  “Because he must feel the same way about you,” Cinzia said, wrapping her arm around Astrid’s shoulder.

  Despite the simplicity of the gesture, Astrid felt immensely grateful for it. Cinzia’s touch sent a wave of warmth through her. They sat that way for some time, until Cinzia finally broke the silence.

  “Do you think you can find him?” she asked.

  Astrid shrugged. “I can’t leave you. I can’t leave the Odenites. Not when attacks like last night might happen again.” Not because she cared all that much. It was what Knot would have wanted.

  “You can check back on us every few days,” Cinzia said. “Keep training Eward and the Prelates when you do. But otherwise… You heard Jane, Astrid. She has no intention of going after Knot, but someone has to.”

  “I hate admitting you’re right,” Astrid said, “but at the same time, I’m glad you are.”

  “If it were one of us, Knot wouldn’t rest until he found us.”

  “All right, all right.” Astrid slipped out from under Cinzia’s arm. “You’ve made your point.”

  When their eyes met, Astrid was surprised to see Cinzia was smiling. “Go after him, Astrid. Bring him back to us.”

  27

  Flatlands, northwest of the Undritch Mountains

  WINTER WALKED THE FIELDS in the early morning with Urstadt, Selldor, and Rorie of the Black Hills clan. When she’d received word of the massacre of tiellan refugees at the hand of the Steel Regiment, she’d immediately mobilized her forces back through the Underway to confront the Khalic soldiers. Now almost eighteen hundred strong with the addition of the Cracked Spear’s riders and a few hundred new Ranger recruits from the Druids, the force made for the beginnings of a true army.